Anytime
by Tragedy Tay
Summary: Seth and Summer get it on in The Second Chance, oh yes they do.


Title: Anytime

Summary: Seth and Summer get it on in The Second Chance.

Rating: R

AN: Huh. I finally wrote something that may actually qualify as dirty. Do I...do I get a cookie?

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Come to me, please! All these years fall through. Through the cracks, and now this perfect view. On the upside, both sides win._

_-A.C. Newman_

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"This is wrong," he said, and the words were muffled by her skin. "Summer...Zach."

Summer straddled his lap, her skirt riding up well past her thighs. She looked up at him quickly, and then went back to yanking at the costume, which had far too many straps. "Shut up, Cohen," she muttered, and heat rushed into his mouth from her breath. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Yes, it is all he's _ever _wanted, and he can't stop it, but he should. But he won't.

The leather skirt clung to the sweaty flesh of her legs. The tights are torn away, lying in a heap in the corner.

He laughed out loud when he saw that she wasn't wearing underpants.

He watched a bead of sweat form at the corner of her upper lip before it rolled down her neck, and he wondered what her tears would taste like. Because those are forming too, the corners of her eyes are wet and salty.

Summer never stopped kissing him as she swung her arm out to her nightstand, rummaged blindly in a drawer, and emerged with a condom. She bit the plastic off with her teeth, and shoved it at him, spitting the wrapper away, and smiling as he fumbled putting it on.

He grinned at her, and she suddenly felt horrible. She felt like she should maybe say she was sorry, but she didn't know what she was apologizing for, or even if she had anything _to _apologize for. His breathing was hot and wet against her, and it infuriated her that he was still fully clothed.

Someone reached out and hits the light, and the darkness is pleasant. She can't see him anymore, but she can still feel him.

That was always true, really.

She finally manages to get his shirt off, popping several buttons in the effort, and he slid two fingers into her in response. "Fuck," Summer growled, and then, "_Cohen_." She tremored, shivered, and twisted, and he groaned single, extended syllables that he will try to turn into words for her later. Because words are the least important thing in the world right now.

But they will still need to be said.

He stared at her with a softness that was completely unnerving. She was completely exposed; naked, flushed, and sweating; and all he can do, all Seth knows how to do, is love her. And she doesn't know how to return it. He could feel her heart thudding, and she cried out. "Guuuuuuh," she moaned, as he fingered her, and he laughed again. And then she cried.

She has lost her Game.

"Okay?" he whispered, because he can only remember roughly one one-thousandth of his vocabulary at the moment.

"Fuck me, Cohen," she hissed, and bit his ear quickly, one hand on his chest, the other going to the

waistband of his jeans.

He wished the mark would stay. He wished she would tattoo him everytime she touched him, so he would be assured that he would always remember. She undid the button of his jeans, and she plunged one hand inside his boxers, and they were kissing, and time sped by, or inched by, or something, and he barely managed to register that he tasted blood. He was hard against her hand, and he moaned uncomfortably, but she left him in agony for a minute or two, smirking evily with a cut on her lip, before she slowly let down his zipper.

He played out his own revenge, inserting another finger, and then another, circling, stroking, and she jerked her head backwards, and tried in vain to bite back a scream. Then he pulled back, and she was limp, slack. He kissed her again, and her eyes were dazed, barely focusing. And it felt so good to have someone touching her again that she wanted to sob. She knew that she could cry out her happiness, her anger, her hatred, all her goddamn pain, she could cry it all, and he would understand perfectly. But she wouldn't let him stop now for anything.

She shoved her forehead hard against his, and her eyes were a milimeter from his own. He blinked. "Now," she said, her voice a harsh rasp. "Fucking _now_, Cohen!"

"Be nice, Summer," Seth groaned, and she ached for him as he mirrored her smirk.

"_Please_." There was no time for games. She was tired of games.

"Whatever you say, Summer," he said, proud of himself for making her beg. Seth rolled over, his arms wrapped around her, holding her firmly on the bed. And suddenly everything tightened. She spread her thighs out further, straining muscles that hadn't gotten exercise in far too long. She cursed as he moaned, and his hips moved under her, faster, harder.

She welcomed the pain. This pain was good, she thought, and pain has become her mantra.

He didn't say anything as he came. His mouth just fell open, and his eyes clenched shut, and he tensed, and he bucked rapidly against her with a series of grunts.

She didn't even do that much. She buried her fists and her face into his hair, and made tiny little squeaky moans, and the top of his head was soaked with sweat and tears, and maybe blood. He can feel punctures in his scalp, and he wished that Summer would cut her fingernails. And then he smiled at the perfect pain. It can be nothing less, because Summer is the perfect person.

He cupped his hands around her ass, and pulled her close to him, breathing her name, saying that he loved her.

She said it back.

Loving Seth is nothing like loving Zach. Loving Zach is an eventual duty that hangs just out of her reach, taunting her when she isn't even sure she wants to make the huge ammount of effort it would take to grasp it. Loving Seth is a slow burn that will consume her, whether she welcomes it or not. She figures she may as well.

She said it back.

She pushed him away from her, cupping his head in her hands, then she leaned forward and kissed him, hard. She opened her mouth wide and pushed her tongue roughly against his.

And she said it again.

"What happens now?" he whispered, much later, when she is attached firmly to him, sticky with sweat, her eyes heavy.

"This is what I wanted," she said, and smiled up at him, glassy-eyed. "I needed you."

"I'm lost, Summer," he said, shaking his head, and he kissed her forehead.

"Me too." And maybe she means more with that than he did.

But they are lost together.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

end.


End file.
